He reversed out of the pantry, pausing to turn off the light, reminding himself that he must (rinse) put everything back in order as he made his retreat. If Misery Chastain had been a real person, he knew he might very well have been called upon "to aid the police in their inquiries", as the euphemism went. It was this thought more than any other which had seat him out on this cold and windy night, under a moon which stuttered uncertainly between the clouds. Martian death-machines He looked toward the barbecue pot, expecting it to look like a barbecue pot in the morning light: a barbecue pot and nothing else.
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